Holidays
by minorxcrisis
Summary: Who, truly, are Alex Rider and Harry Potter? What do they have in common? My take on their true secret holiday experiences, behind the scenes. To be a Two/three-shot.


A/N: Just a little thing I've been writing in an attempt to get rid of exam stress, dedicated to all my reviewers/readers from 'a tiny shift'=) Will prob only be a 2 shot or so. CHiKa-RoXy, if you're reading this, pls dun pull out all your hair!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Bye, Hermione! Take care!"<p>

Harry Potter waved the worried bushy-haired girl off, setting his luggage on the trolley his uncle had so _thoughtfully _brought for him. Uncle Vernon gave him a sickly thin smile and helped to push the trolley, barely covering his annoyance. _Oh, but he will bear with it,_ thought Harry. _After all, he's only here to see me off again._

As soon as they reached the entrance, his uncle stopped walking.

"Make sure you're back here on the first of January. Wouldn't want those freaks after me," He instructed the boy as he did every school holiday. Harry nodded. "Well, I'm off." Uncle Vernon muttered brusquely. He let go of the trolley hand bars and instantly disappeared, relief written across his face.

Harry let his eyes run over the numerous vehicles waiting along the road in the diminishing evening light. Black Mercedes, a red Honda, a Volkswagon and a Taxi. He headed straight for the latter despite the 'hired' sign. He opened the side door and slid in, dragging the luggage in. "Airport, please."

The driver, a young man with red hair and a goatee, looking to be in his twenties or so, scowled.

"How'd you know it was me?" He pouted, removing his baseball cap and running his hands over his hair and face. The fake hair and goatee came off, revealing a 14 year old boy with blond hair and dark eyes.

"You're predictable. Please, part-time assassins think alike." Harry answered, smiling. "Where's the fake ID?"

Alex Rider retrieved a card from his pocket and shoved it at him. "Fake? I wouldn't say so. A quick check on the database is enough to ensure that it exists."

"For a non-existent person," Harry supplied. "Why so nice to come pick me up? I assumed you'd be rushing off the moment school let off to snatch your first client away from me. "

"What? You don't think I would do something out of the goodwill of my heart?" Alex dramatically placed his hands over his heart. Harry rolled his eyes. "Ok, ok it was my cover to get out of a trip to Venice with my tuition class." Alex scowled. "Don't even ask me how I ended up in need of a tutor. MI6 took half of my lesson time away. Ah well, it's my own free time and boss now. Speaking of school, learnt any useful new tricks from that magic school of yours?"

Harry silently lifted a pillow from the back seat with wandless magic and sent it flying at Alex, who caught it an inch from his face without even looking back, giving an approving whistle. "You've improved, but it's still a bit shaky."

"Too bad I've got that stupid age restriction spell tracing my wand, or I'd be able to use the killing curse and all other stuff. Would save me all the trouble and let me finish my tasks in half the time. As of now, I can only do the simplest spells wandlessly."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Where would all the satisfaction come from, then? Anyway, I suggest you buckle up. " He gave Harry a smile full of molars which set alarm bells ringing frantically in his head.

He did the calculation: one dangerous14 year old boy at the driving wheel, no license, fake ID and full control of the vehicle he was sitting in. Oh no, that was no good at all. "This isn't about the last holiday when I shot that guy before you did, is it?" He asked worriedly.

Alex gave him another cunning smile as he shifted the gear into reverse. "Don't worry; I got over that fast enough. But hey, we're still rivals, aren't we?"

Harry grabbed the advised seatbelt and hung on for dear life.

...

Harry flung himself on the soft bed in his penthouse apartment and groaned, still feeling the last vestiges of headache and dizziness from the ride, courtesy of Alex. He was very certain that Alex had purposely turned sharp corners at every opportunity. _That bloody annoying prat, _he thought, the corners of his mouth twitching.

To his neighbours, he was James Hertz, a young entrepreneur and to the underworld, he was simply known as Con, the mysterious but very successful and highly sought for contract killer, though Alex was just as infamous. Alex was the only one who knew about Harry's magic and his real name and identity. Likewise, he knew Alex's real name and identity and his hidden _holiday_ identity as contract killer Hun. He chuckled as he recalled once when they'd met at a party under disguise and hadn't recognized each other until after 15 minutes of exchanging craftily veiled threats/pleasantries. But just as Alex was his best friend, he was also his greatest rival. They enjoyed competing in the number of clients they received every holiday.

Harry's cell phone beeped- his first client. Harry pulled himself out of bed and went off to the bathroom to change. No time to waste, he was determined to beat Alex this holiday. He could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins as he put on his night garb and concealed bullet-proof vest. A hood covered most of his face, set in place by a sticking charm. Not even Hogwarts could measure to this; Dumbledore would probably have a fit if he discovered that his meddling little housing plans hadn't exactly been in place since Harry had found his new life 3 years ago.

He smiled; this was something Alex understood well too._ It's my own free time and boss now._

He slid three throwing knives into the concealed straps on his upper arm, thigh and back, where they could be comfortably assessed. He slid on a few innocent looking but deadly devices he had invented himself: A mini bomb-turned-watch which, when set to a certain time, would explode in 3 minutes, spectacles which worked as an x-ray scanner, camera and a powerful mini lamp which could even leave the opponent temporarily blinded when the right leg was twisted, and his cellphone which could shoot 3 paralyzing darts.

Finally, his most precious weapon—his own constructed handgun. Briefly, he regretted the inability to simply use an Avada Kedavra but didn't dwell on it long. _Where would all the satisfaction come from, then?_

Satisfied, he climbed out onto the roof the penthouse apartment (The apartment had 5 floors only), surrounded by an entire stretch of condensed short buildings perfect for leaping on. The sky had already darkened considerably and he made his way to his destination.

Jumping roofs in the dark, blending into the shadows, enjoying the darkness and thrill of his cold-blooded job. This was what he was truly meant for, what sang in his blood. His real life started now.

_I should seriously have been a Slytherin,_ He thought, not for the first time.

...

Alex Rider, otherwise known as the dangerous contract killer Hun whose identity not even MI6 was aware of, was already on his first assignment. Very much like Harry, he was dressed in loose fitting clothes with an arsenal of hidden weapons and most importantly, a light, black cloth mask which covered his upper features, keeping his identity a dark secret. Harry had given it to him as his 13th Birthday present. It had been charmed so it could only be taken off by Alex himself.

The target was Sloane Harthings, a young but influential environmentalist who had unfortunately insulted at least a dozen soap manufacturing companies by constantly criticizing and protesting against their supposedly harmful products. Alex did not care so much for the details. He followed the address given to a small but beautiful mansion. From what he could see, there were only 5 guards in there, but a sweep with his special binoculars proved that the place was rigged with several security cameras and the newest security system—the WinShield, a series of complicated alarms, lasers and levers. Even the surrounding walls had special motion and weight detectors. Nothing short of a mouse could scuttle in and even then, it would probably be fried by the heat sensors.

Alex was tempted to whistle. It seemed the guy was pretty aware of his unpopularity as well.

The place seemed impenetrable but Alex knew from experience that nothing was perfect. There was bound to be a loophole somewhere, and he loved such challenges.

He spotted the first loophole; a blind spot behind the guards' makeshift station which the cameras and lasers did not reach. Hmmm... but to reach it, he had to get over the wall without getting deep fried...

...

Meanwhile, at the other end of the mansion, Harry Potter spotted the blind spot behind the guards' station as well. He crept silently towards it, pondering how he could possibly get over the wall. He was not the only one wondering. A completely still figure clothed in black was already there, half hidden by the shadows and only barely visible to Harry's trained eyes.

...

Alex froze. He heard nothing, but his instincts screamed at him. There was someone nearby! Suddenly, a hand clapped over his mouth and an iron grip held him in place.

"Don't do anything stupid. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer me with a nod or a shake of your head. I'm sure you treasure your life enough to be smart enough to answer truthfully." A dangerous voice hissed at him softly. Alex rolled his eyes. Seriously, when would they ever learn? Nobody. Threatened. Alex. Rider. Of course, except MI6 but Alex got his revenge every holiday— an average of 3 requests to get rid of an operative or close contact of theirs.

Without any prior warning, he hooked a leg behind his attacker and kicked him, hard. It only caused him to stumble slightly, but that was all Alex needed. He twisted in the slackened grip and delivered a swift punch to his assailant's face, but the man caught it an inch from his face with lightning speed reflexes and threw him into the air with seemingly inhumane strength. Alex somersaulted in mid air and landed a few paces away. The two faced each other, treading slowly and completely silently in a circle, gauging the opponent's built; felines waiting for the other to start the game.

There was something vaguely familiar of the assailant, Alex noted. Similar height and build as himself, face covered by a hood which seemed fixed in place... "Harry?"

...

Harry glanced warily at the mysterious man before him. He seemed fast and rather skilled, even though Harry had the advantage of wandless levitation spells to enhance his throw. Harry frowned. He had seen a similar mask the man was wearing before... Suddenly, the man paused. "Harry?"

Whaa...! Only one person knew that name... "Alex...?"

Both boys straightened up. "What are you doing here?" They asked each other in unison, and groaned together. "Same case _again_."

"Harthings?"

"Yeah. Who hired you?"

" Surprisingly, Scorpia. I guess they still haven't figured out who 'Hun' is, or they'd go ballistic, MI6 too. You?"

"Some billionaire goon—Richard Cumings, boss of a successful soap company Harthings has been going against very strongly. Harthings must have really been messing about in all the wrong areas."

There was a moment of silence as the 2 boys gazed at the high wall that separated them from their target. Alex spoke carefully. "We're rivals in getting rid of this guy first, but in the mean time—"

"—Allies until we reach his bedroom."

"Deal."

...

Alex was feeling slightly sorry for Harthings as they slipped into the house from a window on the second floor. Harthings had a state of the art security system and 5 guards but they just simply weren't a match for 2 deadly teenage assassins, especially when 1 was a wizard. It had been almost too easy getting past the guards once they had entered the compound.

From his research, Alex knew that Harthing was married but had no children. Currently, his wife was out of the country, visiting a relative. The house was large but simply furnished with little bits of nature blended in—straw mats, pots of weird looking plants and energy saving lamps. A fresh, woody scent filled the house, rather out of place in the dark house, soon to be a mournful one. A gigantic painting hanging along the wall of the hallway caught his attention: To the right was a sliding door which Alex deduced as the study, recalling the blueprints of the house, and to the left was a long hallway leading to several rooms. Alex knew, as did Harry, that the prize lay at the very last room, 30 or so metres away: Harthings' sleeping quarters.

A pause. They glanced at each other, at the room, and broke into a sprint, simultaneously drawing their handguns while making less sound then a mouse would. 25 metres, 20 metres, 15 metres...

Harry levitated himself slightly and sped forward, leaving behind a disgruntled Alex who hissed "Cheat!" The doors loomed ahead and he slowed down, swiftly turning the knob and sliding through the doors. Moonlight shrouded the bedroom walls in a silvery glow, illuminating shadows in the large, simply furnished room.

Harry headed straight for the king-sized bed in the middle of the room where he could see a figure scrunched up in the covers, presumably Harthings. He grinned as he made his way over, thinking of a furious Alex and the numerous teases he was guaranteed_. Ah,_ _Victory is sooo sweet._

"Goodbye, Mr Harthings." He murmured softly. He tossed the bed covers off the man to get a close shot...and was stopped in his tracks.

The eerie moonlight shone brightly on a bolster and an assortment of pillows, specially arranged to form a body shape. A brown wig perched on one end of the bolster. For a second or so, Harry did not comprehend what he was seeing. Then his brain computed the things that lay before him and his mind went into overdrive.

_Pillows, fake wig, the rather loose security...it could only mean one thing._ "Shit."

Harry whirled around, just in time to be whacked by a heavy object, sending him into the whirlpool of darkness.

_It's a trap._


End file.
